


Leave-Taking

by 13th_blackbird



Series: Winterverse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Eli goes to the Ascendancy, Established Relationship, Feels, Implied Sexual Content, Karyn Faro is insubordinate, M/M, Sad Kissing, Thrawn: good at tactics but bad at coping, Why Did I Write This?, but is also a good friend, just two dudes Doing What Needs to Be Done for Honor's Sake, language lessons, made-up Chiss terms of endearment, too sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13th_blackbird/pseuds/13th_blackbird
Summary: Thrawn and Eli say their goodbyes. Then, with Eli gone to the Ascendancy, Thrawn fulfills an oath and faces the uncertain future. Karyn Faro assists (mostly).For @urdnot on Tumblr who requested "the last few days before Eli leaves for the Ascendancy being intense, gay, and sad."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> @urdnot, thanks for the prompt, I guess??? :( why you make me do this???
> 
> Follows the first two works in this series, "Depth of Winter," and "Two-Drink Minimum," but those aren't required if you just want that sweet angst.

Eli awoke with the pleasant, familiar soreness in his muscles that followed a night in Thrawn’s bed — it was more pronounced today, last night had been…fiercer. More intense even than usual. He stretched, enjoying the reminders of where Thrawn’s hands had gripped, where Eli had been held down…he lifted a hand, examined the faint, finger-shaped bruise on his arm, just above his wrist.

“My apologies.” Eli sat up to see the man responsible, sitting stiffly in a little-used chair by the bed.

“What are you still doing here?” Eli said, reaching for the right intonations, still feeling half-asleep. They spoke only Cheunh when they were alone, now. “Wait—“ he scrabbled for his chrono. “What am _I_ still doing here, I’m late for—“

Thrawn put down the datapad he had been holding and came over to the bed. He was still undressed. “You are not late for anything,” Thrawn murmured, pushing Eli back down into the bed, gently. “You have symptoms of the Coruscanti influenza, and have been advised to stay off active duty today.”

“Oh yeah?” Eli said, “And you’ve been _advised_ to play my medical droid, I guess?” He had to revert to Basic for that, and Thrawn shot him a look of disapproval. “Sarcasm doesn’t come across in Cheunh,” Eli muttered.

Thrawn inclined his head in agreement, and continued in the Chiss’s native tongue. “ _I_ am busy working on a research brief for Governor Pryce concerning her Rebel issues. As you can see, I am currently in my office, having given orders not to be interrupted or disturbed for any reason save a full-scale attack on the Fleet.”

The idea of Thrawn playing hooky was more than a little ridiculous, but Eli could only manage a half-smile. “Thank you,” he said, a little more plaintively than he’d intended.

Thrawn wasn’t usually one for casual physical affection, but this morning, things were different. He lay down atop Eli, covering his body, caressing his face. Eli threw his head back into the pillows, letting his own hands map Thrawn’s chest, his arms, his smooth, cool skin, so different from Eli’s own.

“Everything is prepared for tomorrow,” Thrawn said, into Eli’s ear, trailing his mouth over Eli’s jawline.

Eli shivered. “I know, can we not—“

“We will not, _hisbin’t bo ch’eo vu’er._ ” Thrawn said. He hissed the Cheunh endearment into Eli’s ear. The night he had first used it, he had defined it as _beloved_ , but it was more than that. _Keeper of my honor,_ was the best Basic translation Eli could come up with. The intent behind it was simultaneously lover, friend, partner, comrade, respected-one…it covered everything they were to each other, and more.

True to his words, Thrawn didn’t talk about _tomorrow_ — or much of anything else — as he and Eli repeated their actions from the previous night. Eli’s mouth on Thrawn’s, Thrawn’s hands pulling at Eli’s hair. Eli thought the Cheunh words for _faster,_ _harder, don’t stop, I’m coming_ were the ones he was the most-practiced at, by now.

He didn’t anticipate having much of a need for those in the Ascendancy.

Where he would be, this time tomorrow.

They spent the day — the last day Eli would spend on the _Chimera_ — in and out of bed. Always speaking in Cheunh, as if a final day of practice would do Eli any good.

“You still have a Lysatran accent, even in Cheunh,” Thrawn said, brushing Eli’s hair away from his cheek.

Eli sighed. “Good,” he said. “It’s where I’m from, might as well carry it into the Unknown Regions.”

“Eli…you do not have to do this,” Thrawn said. “You do not have an obligation to me, to my people.”

There was a long pause.

“And you don’t have an obligation to the Empire. Especially after what we just saw on Batonn. What you saw on Coruscant, the Emperor’s planet-killer. You can’t want to stay, to be a part of tactics like that. To work for _Pryce?_ _You_ should come back with _me_ ,” Eli said, finally.

Thrawn’s hand stilled. “You know I cannot,” he said. “I _do_ have an obligation to my people. This is my appointed task, to observe the Empire, to become a part of it. To bring it to bear on the threats that are to come.”

“Don’t we have an obligation to each other?” Eli said. “ _Tiscut'san'in'ci,_ remember, on Vria? Or am I the flaw in the plan?”

Thrawn closed his eyes at Eli’s use of the term. _A type of partnership forged between equals, under duress, a true bond of respect and attraction both,_ was how he had defined it on the planet Vria, when they had first made their true feelings toward each other known.

“I release you from that obligation,” Thrawn said.

“You can’t release me from anything, _Admiral._ You can’t _order_ me not to—“ Eli sat up, pushing away Thrawn’s hand. His dark eyes were blazing with insulted pride.

“Eli,” Thrawn said, holding out a hand in a human gesture for calm. “I am not ordering you.” He sighed. “Do you recall the night at the Academy when we were attacked?”

Eli’s body language relaxed slightly. “And you knocked me into the bushes?” he said, dryly. “Yeah, I remember that. You ended up wounded, remember?”

“I knew I was walking into a trap,” Thrawn said. “I knew the potential danger. And yet, I judged it worth the risk to uncover the identities of our enemies. However, I judged the risk worthy _only to myself._ Not to you.”

Silence.

“I don’t think it’s a risk worth taking,” Eli said, finally, but without heat.

“If you are to remain here,” Thrawn said. “I do not judge the risk worthwhile to you. You will be better served by my people than your own. And you will be my counterpart — I, the Ascendancy’s representative in the Empire, you, the Empire’s representative in the Ascendancy. It is the most logical course of action. And it is the one that protects… _hisbin’t bo ch’eo vu’er._ The one who keeps my honor.”

“He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious,” Eli quoted, with a sigh. “You taught me that, too.”

“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “Let us move the battlefield to one of our own choosing.”

“And let me provide you with an escape route,” Eli pressed. “If things go bad. If the Rebels unite. If they find leadership. If it looks like it’s not going according to plan—”

“I will assess the situation accordingly,” Thrawn said.

Eli pulled Thrawn’s hand back to his face, to his mouth. Kissed the palm of it. Thrawn shuddered at the touch on the sensitive flesh.

“Make sure that you do, _hisbin’t bo ch’eo vu’er,_ ” Eli said. 

 

#

The two shuttles were prepared. One would carry Eli to a preprogrammed set of coordinates, to rendezvous with Thrawn’s Ascendancy contact. The other, on autopilot, would suffer a fatal malfunction when it was far enough away from the _Chimera._

Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, aide to Admiral Thrawn of the _Chimera_ would die today. Eli would have to find out who he was without the title, without the role he’d held for the past ten years, instead.

He was wearing his uniform, though. He was unwilling to part with that, yet.

Eli handed Thrawn a folded piece of flimsi. The letter to his parents, the only people who were to know that he hadn’t died in the coming “accident.” Eli hated the thought of his friends — Karyn Faro, the other senior staff members, mourning him, but it couldn’t be helped.

“You’ll deliver it in person?” he said.

“I said that I would,” Thrawn said, gravely. “I will see to it that your parents will not believe you dead for long.”

He handed Eli a datapad. “The coordinates for the dead-drop message relay are here,” he said. “It is how I have communicated with the Ascendancy these years, without betraying their location. I will check it when I can. I have also included some…personal notes.”

Eli smiled. “I’ll look forward to those.”

They would have to step out of the office, soon. To where they wouldn’t have any privacy, and would have to pretend this was any other routine trip. “Eli,” Thrawn said. “I do, truly, release you from your obligation to me. We do not know if we will see one another again, and I do not expect your loyalty at such a distance—“

Eli cut him off with a kiss, desperate, not a prelude to anything further, though it still inflamed them both. “That’s a load of krayt spit, sir,” he said. “I’ll stay obligated if I want. And I do. But I don’t expect that from you—“

“Let us not deceive each other then,” Thrawn said. “It is unlikely, very unlikely, that there will be others…”

“…but if there are, we won’t hold it against each other,” Eli finished.

“Indeed,” Thrawn said, entwining his fingers with Eli’s. “It has been an honor to know you, Eli Vanto.”

“It’s been a pleasure to serve, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,” Eli said.

A final touch, a final kiss, and Eli was gone.

Thrawn returned to his office, alone. He really did have work to do, and intended to apply himself to it. Forcefully, in fact. To the exclusion of all else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Eli gone to the Ascendancy, Thrawn fulfills an oath and faces the uncertain future. Karyn Faro assists (mostly). 
> 
> \--
> 
> You know that webcomic where the dog is just sitting there drinking coffee while his apartment is on fire, but he's like, "This is fine."? This is the fic version of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize this angsty thing had a second part, but here it is! You're welcome?

  


“Thank you for your report, Commander Faro,” Thrawn said, nodding in dismissal at her. He had barely heard the report in question. He would have to review it later to grasp the details. 

“I like those. Different than your usual,” Faro said, as she packed up her datacards, indicating the holos of brightly colored textiles that were currently adorning the wall behind his desk. 

Thrawn looked at them for a long moment. “They are Lysatran,” he said. 

“...oh,” Faro said, her voice suddenly small. “I--”

In the infrared, her face was heated. She raised her hand to cover it, but he caught a glimpse of her eyes, shining wet and wide with disbelief. 

“I--sir, I'm so sorry. Uh, permission to be dismissed…” she stammered. 

Faro was  _ crying _ . Thrawn had never seen a member of his staff cry. He had watched Faro on the bridge a hundred times, barking orders as ships exploded around them, her face impassive. She was no stranger to losing comrades and friends in battle.

“Not granted, Commander,” he said. “You will need to control your emotions in this office.”

Faro gave him a blazing look. She scrubbed at her eyes furiously. “How long have I worked for you, sir? Five years, right?”

“Commander Faro--” 

“I'm the  _ captain _ of your  _ flagship _ , Admiral.”

“Commander, this outburst is--”

“So,  _ respectfully _ , sir: go fuck yourself. Did you even really care about him at all? Or are we all just little game pieces to you?” she hissed. And then sat back, clearly stunned at her own words. 

Insubordination was intolerable. Disrespect from the Captain of his flagship--as she had so forcefully reminded him-- the Captain he had handpicked precisely due to her cool-headed nature…

_ Did you even really care about him at all?  _

That was right. Faro had  _ known.  _ Had  _ guessed _ and had kept their secret. She hadn't used it for personal gain. 

She and Eli were close friends. And she was mourning him, because Thrawn had told her Eli was dead. Senselessly, in an accident, not in battle. 

He saw now just how cruel that had been. Thrawn hadn't considered the implications of the loss to anyone but himself. Hadn’t considered anything beyond Eli’s safety. 

Poor tactics. Crew morale was an important resource. 

As though that was truly his most pressing concern. He was aware of just how much he was attempting to deceive himself. Which was dangerous.  _ One who knows himself knows his enemy.  _ If that were true, all of his vaunted tactics were... compromised. 

Thrawn didn't often find himself at a loss for what to do next. He steepled his hands in front of him on top of the desk and looked away from Faro’s accusing glare. 

“You are correct, Commander. I apologize,” he said. “Human emotional reactions are--”

“--nothing new to you, sir.” Faro said. He'd chosen her for her _insight,_ after all. _Damn_ her.  “You've been among us for long enough to know better.”

Hot anger bloomed within him, and he turned his gaze back to Faro, ready to dismiss her. Even to officially reprimand her. She was looking at him steadily. She looked tired, he saw now. Defeated. 

“Of course I do not see my staff members as game pieces,” Thrawn said. “Least of all...Lieutenant Commander Vanto.”  _ Eli.  _ “You know what our relationship was, Commander.” 

She nodded. 

He didn't need to have this conversation with her. Or with anyone. This was  _ personal. _ The fact that she knew was mere information, a potential crack in an otherwise flawless plan. Something to keep an eye on, should she become a threat. It meant nothing else. 

But perhaps he had been among humans too long, because it did mean something else. And he did  _ want _ to tell Faro the truth. Despite the danger to his people. Despite his precarious position, balanced between two oaths. Three, if he counted the one he had tried to release Eli from - the personal one. The one he intended to honor, much like Eli had said he would do as well. 

It had been a very long week. He rested his forehead on his hands for a moment, and Faro moved closer to the desk, hesitantly. 

“Eli is not dead,” he admitted, finally. Ignoring Faro’s gasp, he continued. “He has been sent...away. That is all I will say, as even that is dangerous to know. Do you understand?”

She nodded, slowly, taking that in. “A mission,” she said. “Yes, understood.” Faro let a minute of silence go by.  “I'm sorry, Admiral. It must have been... difficult. I didn't mean to make it worse for you. That was inappropriate. Sir.”

She wasn’t wholly correct, Eli wasn’t on a  _ mission _ , exactly. He was out of harm’s way. But that was a useful enough half-truth. He turned to the holos on the wall. They flapped in an illusory breeze, lit by Lysatra’s golden sun. 

“You did not...make it worse, Commander Faro.” As though that were possible.

“...Sir, I know that we’ll never...share the same bond, but if you ever want to talk, I--”

“Dismissed, Commander,” Thrawn said. 

She nodded once, sharply, saluted, and turned to go.

Thrawn glanced at his desk. There was something he had been putting off. Another oath to attend to. 

“Commander Faro,” he called, and she stopped abruptly. “There is one question I would like to ask you. A...personal favor.”

  


\--

  


Lysatra, at least, the part of it that Eli’s parents called home, was a warm and green place. Thrawn remembered that Eli had said he’d never seen snow as a child. He had to admit, he had expected a small town -- rural, quiet, sparsely populated. But Atkal was a mid-sized city much like any other, with a bustling spaceport. 

“I feel a little bad,” Faro muttered, as they waited to hire a speeder outside. “I think I bought into the whole ‘Wild Space is the frontier’ thing. I wasn’t expecting this, and now I feel like a snob.”

“Hm,” Thrawn agreed, not wanting to admit that his thoughts were running along the same lines. He was getting a lot of significantly-longer looks than he would have liked. The people of Lysatra actually told legends about the Chiss. He should have thought of that, come up with a disguise. But he hadn’t allowed himself to think about this trip in advance.

“Have you...decided what you’re going to say, sir?” Faro whispered as their speeder driver chatted amicably from the front. His accent was more pronounced than Eli’s had been, but the similarity was distracting. 

_ No. _ “Of course,” Thrawn said. “I will simply tell them the truth and deliver the letter Eli prepared for them.” 

“Uh,” Faro said. “They’re probably going to...have questions--” 

“Which I will be unable to answer.”

“--and they’re probably going to be furious.”

Thrawn shot her a look, questioning. He was delivering positive news, at least, to the Vantos. 

“Sir, they thought their son was  _ dead. _ You, or the Navy, or whatever, let them believe that for over a week. That’s basically the worst thing that can happen to someone. To a human parent,” she amended. 

“Our kin bonds are somewhat different,” Thrawn admitted. “The honor and standing of a family as a whole is more important than the relationships between individuals.” 

“Well, sir, that’s definitely not the case here,” Faro said, dryly, and leaned back into her seat. 

The fact that Thrawn  _ didn’t know _ what he was going to do should have been a concern. Curiously, he couldn’t seem to care about that in the slightest, or to bother planning for what was now minutes away. He kept examining that, trying to follow it through to its logical conclusion, and dropping it after a few scant moments of thought. Eli had asked him to do this. Therefore, he would do it. 

“Commander Faro.”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Do you have a recommendation for the appropriate response, in this situation?” 

“The situation where you  _ tell someone’s parents that he faked his own death _ ?” she whispered, with a glance at their driver. 

He looked at her. 

“Well, you could start with--”

  


\--

  


“I am truly sorry, Mrs. Vanto,” Thrawn said again. 

He had thought  _ Faro _ had cried, before. That was nothing compared to what Eli’s mother was doing. She was  _ sobbing.  _ It wasn’t just tears. Her head was down on the table and her shoulders were shaking. 

Eli’s father, a man who was painfully reminiscent of Eli himself, albeit taller, broader, and with less hair, put a hand on Eli’s mother’s shoulder and glared at Thrawn. “This is how the Navy conducts business now, is it?” 

“Eli was selected for this mission by the Admiralty. Someone high up,” Faro cut in. “Things are heating up with the Rebellion. We don’t even really know the details ourselves. But it’s a very prestigious position. A lot of trust has been placed in him....”

None of that was really even false, Thrawn noted. Some of it was unrelated, but the intent behind it...it gave him a place to start. 

“He requested that I bring this news to you in person,” Thrawn continued when Faro looked at him helplessly, out of things to say. “With his regret that he could not do it himself. I...have relied on...Eli for many years. And although I did not wish to see him accept the task,”  _ Although I  _ asked _ him to accept it, I did not  _ wish _ it. “ _ I believe he will succeed in this mission. It is important.  And…”

The Vantos were both looking at him with hope in their eyes. Ms. Vanto had picked her head up, Mr. Vanto’s posture had relaxed just the slightest degree. 

“I may be able to bring you further messages from him,” he finished. That was an equivocation at best. He only hoped it was true. “They may not be frequent but--”

Thrawn was quite unprepared for Eli’s mother to hug him. 

  


\--

  


There was a bar in the spaceport in Atkal, which was by far its best feature. 

Thrawn didn’t speak to Faro at first, instead staring out the window. There were similar textiles to the holos in his office hanging outside. 

She tapped on the bar top, summoning the bartender. 

“Corellian whiskey,” she said. “Two. The cheap kind, not Whyren's,” Then she turned to Thrawn. “What are you getting, sir?”

“I am not--”

“Make it three,” she said to the bartender. 

She drank the first one all at once and grimaced, looking at the glass in horror. “I said cheap, not poisonous,”  she muttered. She put her head down on the bar, burying it in her hands, much like Mrs. Vanto had done.

“That was awful,” she said, her voice muffled. “The worst.”

“I thought it went well, considering the circumstances,” Thrawn said.

She raised her head and looked at him incredulously. 

“No. It didn't,” she said flatly. “His mother was devastated and his father is angry enough that's he's probably going to blow up a naval base. Also, did you notice that there were holos of Eli as a baby on the wall in front of us literally the entire time?”

“I did notice that.” It had been impossible not to. An odd human affectation. 

“Also,” She lifted the second glass. “You promised them  _ messages _ ?”

“I did not promise them messages, I said that there may be messages, and if there were, that I would pass them along.”

She laughed darkly. “Yeah, okay, sir. I'm sure that's what they heard.”

Faro was, truly, far too insightful. 

“What are you going to do now, sir?” she asked. 

He wished she would stop talking. It was interesting how humans asked questions like that when they were really asking about emotions. What he was going to do had nothing to do with how he felt. 

“My job, Commander,” Thrawn answered. 

Then he picked up the third glass and drained it. He agreed with her assessment of its contents. Human alcoholic drinks were nowhere near strong enough to affect him, but making the attempt was still somehow comforting. He’d had some of his own people's  _ csonan, _ but that was gone. He remembered Eli murmuring in his ear:  _ You didn't have to get me drunk first, you could have just asked me. _

He should have kept some back.

Faro stared at him. “Oh,” she said, slowly. “You're...a wreck. I didn’t think about what that would look like, for you.” 

“I am merely--”

“You had no idea what to do, back there. And that is...really weird. Sir.”

He couldn't disagree. 

“You should request leave,” Faro said. He was sure she intended that to be helpful and not insulting.

“And what would I do with leave time?” he said. 

She shrugged. “The human tradition would be, I don't know...crying, getting really drunk, making questionable sexual advances on strangers, throwing things, maybe starting some bar fights. What do Chiss do?”

Chiss didn't have the biological ability to cry, and he'd never really understood why humans needed it. Tears seemed wasteful and theatrical to him. What use was it to broadcast emotions in such a...messy fashion? Questionable sexual advances were not appealing. Drunkenness was not easy to obtain and unwise besides. The last two items...

“I cannot spend a week ‘throwing things and starting fights.’ I have just been promoted. The fleet is to move to Lothal soon, to deal with their rebel problem. We're being closely monitored by the Emperor. It is a high-level assignment.”

“It is,” she agreed, voice neutral. “Um, you would spend the... _ entire _ week...throwing things?”

“I am not taking leave, so the question is moot.” A week would not have been enough, more than likely. 

She held her hands up, a gesture of surrender. “Okay, sir. Point taken.”

  


\--

  


Lysatra was a long way from where the fleet was stationed. When they returned, the preparations for their new assignment were well underway. 

Thrawn shouldn’t have been surprised to find that he had been assigned a new aide, as well. Lieutenant Cala Hawkes was a tall blonde woman from Coruscant--so, nothing like Eli at all--who was competent enough. He preferred to comm her with assignments. She had her own office and her own work, there was no need for the two of them to meet in person often. Or, preferably, at all. 

He changed the Lysatran art behind his desk to work from Lothal. He stepped back to consider it -- it seemed drab, uninspired, in comparison to the bright tapestries. The light caught something in his peripheral vision and he glanced at the side table. 

The Chandrilan glass sculptures he’d once kept on the desk. 

_ You moved the statues. I guess you had the same idea about this desk as I did. _

There was no point in keeping the desk clear now. He moved them back. 

As he placed the last one in line, he paused, feeling the weight of the glass in his hand, the slickness of its surface. Chandrilan art had no harsh lines, no sharp edges, no bright colors. The four pieces complimented each other beautifully, a complete set. 

He didn’t  _ throw _ the sculpture. He just let it fall out of his hand. Watched it shatter on the floor. 

Faro had been right. There was something to that, after all. 

  
  



End file.
